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Chapter 5: A Vallak Tale
Leif sat in the pub, the warm numbness of good ale permeating his body. People curroused loudly nearby, but he ignored them. The partying merchants had never really been drunk, not real Vallak drunk. Of course, he doubted the people here had the constitution to be Vallak drunk. It was a fine line see, you couldn’t be so drunk you pass out, but if you weren’t drunk enough it was just drunk, and you had your fun, then woke up the next day and the sun tried to kill your eyes. Real Vallak drunk… Well it was like the difference between a rain storm and a open ocean gale. Most of the good stories were about when the gods got drunk. Of course the priests didn’t tell those. But you heard them every so often. Like when Od One Eye, god of war got so plastered he tried to fight himself, and being the most powerful warrior he could never be defeated. Legend says he is still trying to wrestle himself into submission. Or when the god of love and the goddess of hate got so drunk that… He stopped himself, he remembered what had happened to the person who told that story to him. Got struck by lighting. Idiot had climbed on top of the mast of a ship in the middle of a thunderstorm, so it shouldn’t have been that surprising all things considered. But you never know, the gods were strange like that, best not risk it over a crude story. He slowly stood up, dropped some coins on the table, and walked out into the city. The din surrounded him, people hawking their goods, carriages clattering down the cobblestone street, a blur of conversations. This wasn’t even that large of a city from what he gathered, and yet it was several times larger than the biggest towns he had been in back home. He pushed through the crowds, unsure of where to go now. There was just so much to do, so many sights, so much yet to discover. A darkly skinned woman in strange a strange, light brown robe caught his attention for a second before vanishing in the sea of people. “A caravener…” He muttered to himself. Audun had brought back many stories about the race of wanderers who had no home, and controlled magical constructions greater than anything the priests could ever create. He finally broke through the press of people and was almost run down by a large horse drawn carriage, the man at the reins shouting curses. An older man stepped out, dressed in a stiff looking black suit jacket. “You look like a strapping young fellow, are you looking for work per-chance?” Leif stared at the man for several seconds. “Well it depends on the work.” “Of course, of course. I am looking to hire a few more bodyguards, my current ones aren’t quite intimidating for my liking.” The man said. “How do you know I’m a fighter? Not everyone from my homeland is a warrior.” Leif growled. “And fluent in common!” The man said in surprise. “Well, you don’t carry yourself like a fisherman, and the scars on your arms suggest a less than peaceful life.” Lief reared his head back and started laughing. “Then you’ve never fished like I have! But indeed you are correct, I am a fighter.” “Well would you be interested in a job?” The man asked. “As long as you don’t ban alcohol.” Leif replied. The man took his turn to laugh heartily. “No, don’t worry about that. Well, if you are interested feel free to climb aboard, we can write up the contract once we reach my current abode. And you can tell me what you mean about fishing on the way.” Leif slowly climbed into the cramped carriage, which contained a small red headed girl who stared at him before self consciously breaking eye contact and hiding her head in a book, the other was a Grail man with a severe scowl and an eyepatch. “This is my Daughter Kristen, and one of my bodyguards, Matthew Aber. He’ll show you the ropes… Mr?” “Leif. Just Leif.” Leif replied as he sat next to the Grail man. “Excellent! Now how exactly is Vallak fishing so different?” “Well, you see, the fish we like to catch are far too large and mean to be reeled in like they do, and net fishing is an insult to the gods. So we either spear them, or if they are too deep we have to go to them and attack them with knives and spears while underwater. It is… What is the word. Exkillerating?” “Very close, the exact word is Exhilarating, with a H instead of a K. But yes I imagine that it is.” ' ' “Compared to the Rojyans and Grail, the Vallakians who now call our nation home are far more easily integrated, they bring a certain love of life and despite their threatening appearance are extremely friendly.” Lord Lindor Mernoth.